


Mud Puppies

by nhpw



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Blackmail, Fluff, Fondling, Groping, M/M, Oral Sex, Pillow Talk, Post-Coital Cuddling, Public Display of Affection, RPF, Stripping, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 03:27:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5727985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhpw/pseuds/nhpw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen really, really wants Misha on the team for Tough Mudder 2016, and he's pretty sure he can convince him to do it.</p><p>Misha really, really is not sure he can do the course without fondling Jensen in the mud.</p><p>Turns out, they're both right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mud Puppies

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration came from a Twitter conversation about Tough Mudder 2016 following Richard Speight Jr.'s posting of this video: https://vimeo.com/151688683. 
> 
> Further obstacle research done on the Tough Mudder Web site: https://toughmudder.com/obstacles
> 
> Misha, dude, we all just want to see you play in the mud. Seriously.
> 
> Un-beta'd, and all in fun.

Truth be told, he mostly did it to get Jensen off his back.

Figuratively, anyway.

And possibly to get him  _ on _ his  _ front _ , literally, but that was another matter altogether.

Misha had opted out of the SPN Family Tough Mudder 2015 adventure for… reasons - OK, good and valid and charity- and family-related reasons, sure, but there were other reasons, too, that he mostly kept to himself. Namely, he wasn’t sure he could traverse ten miles with Jensen Ackles, both of them drenched and mud-slick, without hauling him off somewhere in the middle of the course for a quick-and-dirty - literally.

But Jensen wouldn’t shut up about it, even before Rich Christmased the fans with the video they’d made on the 2015 course. After that, he had ammo.

“Do you see that wall?” He said on set in mid-January, pointing emphatically at the video streaming on his phone. He paused it to make more of a point. “Osric scaled that wall, Mish. Fucking  _ Jason Manns _ scaled that wall. You would  _ kill it _ .”

“You don’t know that.”

There was a pointed look and wiggling of eyebrows at that. “Lest you forget, I have intimate knowledge about just what those arms of yours can do. I know how strong you are.”

“Maybe you need a reminder right now.” He fixed Jensen with an intense glare.

“Maybe I need a reminder in the hotel this weekend.”

“Oh, I’m certain of that.”

“If you say you’ll do it, I’ll blow you.”

At that, Misha gave a dark chuckle, eyes sparkling, hands on his hips. “You’ll blow me anyway.”

“Maybe I won’t.”

It was a low blow, but Jensen didn’t back down from the threat and after a few tense moments, Misha shook his head and walked away.

He let up on the plane to Jacksonville, but the harassment resumed in the hotel, double-fold because by now the fans had all had time to digest Rich’s video. “ _ Come on _ , Mish. I want you to do it. Jared wants you to do it.  _ The fans _ want you to do it -  _ have you seen _ Twitter?” He arched an eyebrow at his own statement. “I cannot fucking believe I just asked you that. But you’d rock that course and teamwork is sort of your jam… please? For me?”

“ _ You _ are the  _ problem _ . Do you know how hard it’ll be for me to keep my hands off you?”

Jensen’s self-satisfied smirk was its own reply. “You act like I haven’t been thinking about that for the past seven months.”

“This is coercion. It’s harassment. It’s-- I swear, one more word and I’m going to--”

“Hey, woah, Mish. Settle down. No one’s forcing you.” Jensen put on his most convincing Innocent Puppy face and held up his hands in surrender as he said this - all wide-eyed and beautiful in a way that made Misha’s stomach muscles clench and his anger ebb into something else. They were in public, of course, but only sort of - just leaving their adjacent hotel rooms on Saturday morning, shrugging into their public personas because the second they hit the convention floor, they needed to be  _ ON _ .

Misha clicked his door closed and shoved the keycard into the back pocket of his favorite pair of jeans. He put his hands on his hips and studied the gaudy pattern of the hallway carpet for one beat in consideration before approaching Jensen, eyes blazing and jaw set, and shoving him up against the wall just outside his hotel door. “You threatened to withhold a few things,” he growled, forcing Jensen to hold his unblinking gaze. “You don’t call that  _ forcing _ ?”

But Jensen kept up his wide-eyed-innocence act undeterred. He shrugged against the hotel’s wallpaper, feeling it scrape a bit under the flannel of his plaid shirt. “It’s not like I’m the only person you know who’s willing and able to give you a blowjob. Probably not even the only one in this hotel right now, Mish, did you  _ see  _ some of those girls last night?” He let out a low whistle, but as he did, his eyes went from wide and innocent to narrow and mischievous, no longer able to keep up the act. His mouth curled up at the corners in turn, offering Misha a new look, one that was anything but innocent and more closely matched to the  _ want _ and  _ need  _ gnawing away at Misha’s gut, in the beat before he reached one hand down between the crush of their bodies to squeeze pointedly at Misha’s groin. “So you’ll do it.”

“I’ll do it.” Misha tried to move away, but Jensen’s hands were roaming freely now below his waist and he eventually had to jerk away roughly or they’d never make it downstairs. “ _ And you _ , if you keep that up. Your adoring public is waiting, Ackles. Pull yourself together.”

Jensen just laughed and pushed himself away from the wall with both hands. “I could say the same to you. You need a minute to adjust?” He made a somewhat telling gesture toward his own crotch as they strolled to the elevators. From the 11th floor they would go down to a green room on 7, where they’d meet Jared, Mark, Rich, Rob, and a host of handlers and volunteers before being herded into the spotlight. They’d also get a schedule review which was good, because Misha could never quite get the hang of where he was supposed to be and when at these things.

He was casually late a lot - much to the amusement of his costars and sometimes the public - not because he tried to be but because he sometimes just simply went to the wrong place at the wrong time.

But Jensen usually gave him a hug and whispered something like, “It’s cute when you’re late,” and that made it OK.

Jensen made a lot of things OK. Even better than OK. Jensen made a lot of things fucking fantastic. Like being away from his family, and running on 3 hours of sleep.

And blowjobs.

“You owe me tonight. After dinner, before any sort of anything with the fans, you owe me.”

“Time and place?” The exchange was quick, almost professional, as they strode in step to the elevator.

“My room. 7:30.”

“And if I’m late?”

“No Tough Mudder 2016.” He punched the “down” arrow before looking pointedly at his friend. “And I won’t let you cum tonight.” The doors opened with a perfectly timed  _ ding _ and Misha stepped inside without another word.

Professionalism be damned. They were alone, and they were hyped and giddy, coming off the rush of their conversation, fueled by plans for the evening, and heady off one another’s presence just in general - of course there were going to be mutual ass fondles in the elevator.

_ Ding _ and they exited, calm and collected but wearing a couple of matching smirks that made Jared wag a finger at them both. “Knock it off,” he said, ticking his finger at each of them in turn.

Misha laughed.

Jensen resumed his look of innocence from a few minutes before. “What?”

“The flirt factor,” he warned, still ticking his finger back and forth, “is way too high. What were you guys doing? Making out?”

“Negotiating,” Jensen returned with a mirrored point of his finger right at Jared’s chest. “He said he’ll do Tough Mudder.”

“I was blackmailed.” But he could only keep up the banter for a couple of seconds, and then he was doubled over and laughing because Jared had turned his back on the pair of them, shaking his head and casting his eyes at the ceiling.

“It’s a family event,” he grumbled, raking his palms over his face, and then Jensen was laughing too.

Jared turned around to face them again, hands on his hips. And that’s how the others found the three of them - Jared looking at the other two like a disapproving father trying and failing to discipline a couple of giggly drunk teenagers.

“I see the party’s already started,” Mark intoned, sparking a glance at his giggling co-stars before patting Jared on the back. “Gentlemen. Shall we?”

A sobering moment and then it was all business, but Misha didn’t miss the final pinch Jensen gave his ass in the elevator down.

***

And so he said he’d do it, and he did. Four months later he found himself in a Kings of Con shirt and assorted sleeves and running shoes he’d probably throw out after this - whatever, they were due to be replaced next month anyway - standing in the heat and sunshine of a Texas May day and cranking out the Star-Spangled Banner with a gaggle of men he felt fortunate to call his coworkers and his friends.

And one man he felt fortunate to have seen naked.

“First time we fall in the mud, Im’ma grab your dick with my muddy-ass hand,” Jensen huffed out at the first wet-and-muddy obstacle, turning his head to the side to flash Misha a trademark grin. “ _ Inside _ your shorts.”

“It’s on, then.”

“Like Donkey Kong.”

But it was tougher going than Misha expected, both mentally and physically, and they didn’t actually land in the mud together until the tenth obstacle - six miles into the course - but the Mud Mile was made for a fondle if Misha said so himself, so when he felt a hand on his thigh throwing his body off-balance, he didn’t even blink - just closed his eyes and let Jensen pull him down until he was neck-deep in murky water and then, yes, then that was definitely Jensen’s knowing hand reaching inside the waistband of his shorts and giving his half-hard manhood a good fondle that was simultaneously too much and not enough and Misha really, really just wanted to be done and stay there in the mud with Jensen and fuck him quick and  _ dirty _ , in every sense of the word. But then Richard was hollering at them to, “For fuck’s sake,  _ come on _ !” and he reached into the muddy abyss and grasped Misha’s right hand, which seemed to be the cue for Jensen to remove  _ his _ right hand from Misha’s naughty bits. “You’ll have plenty of time for sloppy sex later,” he admonished, shaking his head at the pair of them.

“But where’s the adventure in that?” Jensen replied, breath coming in pants and Misha couldn’t be sure if it was due to physical exertion or their extracurricular activities in the mud. Probably a bit of both.

“Wait. What. You.” Jensen just laughed and continued past Rich, and Misha offered him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder.

“Save your energy and your breath, Rich. Let’s go. Four more miles, huff it out.” He was achingly hard by now, but he took off after Jensen, Jared, Osric and the others, keeping his eyes on Jensen and slowing his pace to stay behind just to admire the view. That man had an admirably perfect ass, even completely covered in mud.

Misha  _ literally couldn’t even _ with the next obstacle, though, as Rob came over to stand between Misha and Jensen, slinging one arm around each of them at the shoulders. “ _ Carry Your Wood _ , gentlemen,” he said, nodding emphatically. “You two should take lead on this, experts that you are.”

And he had it coming to him from Rich, who said, “Huff it out, Misha. Huff it out. With your wood. Out,” barely managing to deliver his own punchline before doubling over with laughter.

Misha considered his options for response, and then leaned across Rob. “Hey, Jen?”

“Yes Mish?”

“You got your underwear on backwards today?”

“Oh for the love of--”

“I do.” Jensen’s conspiratorial reply cut Jared off short.

“I wanna see.”

One of the things Misha liked best about his… _ thing _ … with Jensen was the other man’s willingness to join him in playtime. On stage, it meant swapping of resumes, trading jabs, and making the fangirls hyper-analyze their exchange of looks when Misha would position himself behind Jensen in the middle of a panel just so he could grope him and get high off the fact that they  _ suspected  _ but didn’t  _ know _ . The fandom was on fire with rumors and fine-tuned analytics, sometimes taking their appearances apart frame-by-frame and talking for days on end about how he looked like he wanted to lick Jensen -  _ or maybe fuck him, OMG _ \- and they weren’t wrong.

He did want to lick Jensen. He did want to fuck Jensen.

He wanted to fuck Jensen frequently.

And usually he did.

He wanted to fuck Jensen  _ right there _ in the middle of a Tough Mudder competition with their friends, in fact, but that wasn’t really an option, so he considered it a win as Jensen proudly dropped his muddy shorts to the ground, revealing backward boxers underneath and bending over so that the opening tented up at the cleft of his ass.

When he shook his ass in that bent-over position, Misha couldn’t have been more proud.

The others, of course, were uproarious in their response, and several teams around them shot peculiar looks in their direction - but Misha couldn’t bring himself to care. He nodded, walked over to Jensen and pulled his shorts back up, giving his shoulder a squeezing massage and bending so that he could shoot Jen that look that said  _ you’re so beautiful _ and  _ I want you so much _ and  _ God I love you in ways I can’t explain _ .

Rich got it on his friggin’ head cam, but that was all right. Let the fans have at it, he thought, and gave Jensen and Jared twin pats on their behinds as he jumped ahead and took point on their team’s log.

They had to carry it a quarter-mile, which wasn’t really a big deal, but it had to weave up and over and through a few obstacles besides, and  _ that _ took some coordination and made the damn log a lot heavier than it ought to have been.

The next running leg took them to the final obstacle save for the zipline end, and Misha was glad he’d partially lost his erection by that point because when he was down in on his belly crawling under woven wires, even half-mast hurt like a son of a bitch.

Jared was up beside him under the wires, staring him in the face and looking smug as they crawled forward to Kiss the Mud. “Serves you right,” he gritted out, and laughed a bit, and Misha figured it served Jared right, too, so he reached out one arm to the side and pulled his shorts down.

“Gah! Asshole!”

“ _ Serves you right _ ,” Misha returned, and that was it, because now Jared’s shorts were falling down with every move forward and by the time they were clear of the wires, Mr. Padalecki was pantsless.

The sprint to the finish was only a sprint for a few of them - and then the zipline down, and Jensen let go intentionally, Misha was sure of it, so he did the same and there they were down in the mud together, getting in a few encouraging hidden gropes back and forth before clearing to the finish line with their friends.

Bless Vicki and Daneel and Gen, who’d again stocked a cooler with water and beer at the finish. Misha indulged his wife for a muddy kiss and snagged a longneck bottle with a twist-off top before rallying back with the others. He saw Jared, gleefully hugging the hell out of his wife and covering her in mud. He saw Rob and Rich and Osric, smearing clumps of drying mud off their own bodies and flinging it at one another. And he saw Jensen, sitting and talking quietly with Daneel, the late-morning sun shining _just_ _so_ on his face, reflecting off tan skin and cracking mud. He lost himself in that, drinking slowly from his bottle, watching Jensen pull from his own, until their eyes met - contented smiles, both. They appeared at ease.

But they weren’t.

There was a fire in Jensen’s eyes that said  _ want _ and  _ need _ , and Misha was sure he was throwing back the same, because it’s what he felt in his soul, so of course it would project from his eyes. He made sure Jensen was watching and then mouthed  _ Later _ ? with a questioning quirk of his eyebrow, and smiled at the immediate, knowing nod in reply. Jensen gave a sidelong glance to his wife before pinning Misha under a smouldering gaze, smile gone, tongue pressing in and out of his right cheek. And a slower nod than before - up, down, up, down, never once pulling his gaze away.

It was the same gaze he gave him  _ later _ in the changing room and  _ later _ in the shower and  _ much later _ in the hotel, in  _ that _ shower, under a steaming private spray as he got to his knees on the tile and took Misha into his mouth. It’s the same look he gave him  _ later _ in the bed, as Misha worked him open with knowing fingers. It’s the same look he tried to keep as he was fucked, but failed, coming undone underneath Misha’s piercing, unblinking gaze and slow, sensual fuck leading to explosive orgasms for them both. And then his look changed, and it was peaceful. “Hey.”

“Hmmm.”

“Are you glad you did it?”

“I maintain that I was coerced,” he imparted with a point of his right index finger to Jensen’s face. “But yes. Next year I’ll just do it. You don’t have to go forcing me.”

“Maybe next time you can do it naked.”

He laughed at that, and harder at the mental image of it, and harder still at the moment during today’s race when Jensen had willingly de-pantsed. “You were so beautiful,” is what he said, though. “The whole time. I’d do it again tomorrow if it meant I’d get to watch you wriggle your ass in the mud.”

“Same. Same.” Jensen sighed, and they settled into their snuggle, spent but comfortable. “It’s good, though, doing teamwork stuff like that with the guys… with you. Thank you for… giving in… to my demands.”

“The pleasure, Mr. Ackles, was all mine.”

“I’m proud of us.”

Misha sighed contently and settled down, head on Jensen’s chest. “Me too, Jen. Me, too.”


End file.
